O when our zun's a-zinken low,
How soft's the light his feaece do drow
Upon the backward road our mind
Do turn an' zee a-left behind;
When we, in childhood's days did vind
Our jay among the gil'cup flow'rs,
All drough the zummer's zunny hours;
An' sleep did come wi' the dew.
An' afterwards, when we did zweat
A tweilen in the zummer het,
An' when our daily work wer done
Did meet to have our evenen fun:
Till up above the zetten zun
The sky wer blushen in the west,
An' we laid down in peace to rest,
An' sleep did come wi' the dew.
Ah! zome do turn—but tidden right—
The night to day, an' day to night;
But we do zee the vu'st red streak
O' mornen, when the day do break;
Zoo we don't grow up peaele an' weak,
But we do work wi' health an' strength,
Vrom mornen drough the whole day's length,
An' sleep do come wi' the dew.
An' when, at last, our e'thly light
Is jist a-drawen in to night,
We mid be sure that God above,
If we be true when he do prove
Our stedvast faith an' thankvul love,
Wull do vor us what mid be best,
An' teaeke us into endless rest,
As sleep do come wi' the dew.